


Mine

by lokilickedme



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Brother Envy, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hurt No Comfort, I wanna kiss the bride, Invisible Loki, Jealousy, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Sex, Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, Wedding Night, marvel AU, sucks to be Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The woman Loki has chosen for his bride has been given, instead, to his brother.  Driven nearly mad with heartbreak and jealousy, he hides himself under a charm of invisibility and attends the wedding night - without an invitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

 

 

I loved her more than anything in all the thousand kingdoms of the nine realms.  In all the universe.  The cosmos.

She should have been mine.

She _was_ mine.

**_Mine._ **

 

Our love was sweet, with a nectared passion that was all the sweeter for never having been tasted.  Our lips knew the joy of touch, the familiarity of soft kisses and tender sighs around playful tongues and mingled breath.  Our hands knew the fevered heat of skin through clothes and the soft tugging pull of hair through fingers.  Those parts of us that ached and swelled and throbbed with desire knew the painful separation of _no._

_Not yet._

_Not till we are wed._

And so it was.

 

But wed we were not.

 

Oldest son.  Not me.   _The youngest shall wait, his bride will be chosen when the time has come._  I prayed their eyes would not fall upon her, spy her beauty, inquire of her lineage, discover her perfection.  For she was, indeed, perfect.  Perfect for the role that needed to be filled, that of the future queen.  Future queen to the future king.

Not me.

If I was ever to be king, it was not to be of this realm.  The bitter, icy wasteland awaited me, the throne of hoarfrost and neverending cold.  Not this warm, sun dappled kingdom of light.  This was not meant for me, and neither was she.

 

Our final kiss was through desperate tears and I begged her to stay with me, to give herself to me, once and once only, before she wed my brother.  She sobbed my name, a heartbroken rasping cry as she pushed me away, her fingers still twined in my hair, refusing to let go though her words - her words said no.

 

The wedding a blur, a day I shall never recall, the day it ended for me.  Insult to injury, I stood as best man to my brother, just inches from the woman whose tiny hands still clutched my heart in their warm embrace.  She did not look at me, nor I at her.  But my brother's smile I returned many times, his broad, warm, genuinely happy smile, the smile of a man who has just been given something he didn't particularly want, but now that he's had a good look at the gift he is pleased to be in possession of it.  Thor always knew best how to accept good grace graciously.  It came to him often, she was just another in a long line of exceptionally good luck that had befallen him all his life.

_Drink with us, brother._  And so I drank.

_Dine with us, brother._  And so I ate.

_Dance with us, brother._  And so...I held her in my arms one last time, our bodies at a chaste distance from one another, lest my brother's new bride - my sister in law - be sullied by the inappropriate touch of a man she did not belong to, my eyes cast respectfully past her face, not meeting the gaze of the future queen, _my brother's wife._

 

I do not know at what point I decided rendering myself invisible to be a wise decision.  I am even less aware of when entering unseen into the honeymoon suite became so high on my list of priorities for the night that I shirked my responsibilities as second heir and left the feast, making my way nervously down the long corridors toward my brother's bedchambers.  But I do know when the biggest part of my heart died, shriveling away to a dead black cinder inside the painful hollow of my chest.  It was the moment I entered the chambers and saw the woman I loved, the woman I had loved for so long, fulfilling her wifely duties to her new husband.

_Not me._

 

My brother, big, huge, hulking, his broad back completely concealing her from my view, her delicate body subjected to the brutish weight of him bearing down on her, his animalistic grunts assaulting her tiny, precious ears.  How I wanted to sink my blade into that monstrous back, to sever his spinal column between the sixth and seventh vertebrae, but he would have crushed her under his dead weight.  I still loved her too much to subject her to even the few moments it would take me to remove his corpse from atop her.

I don't know why I watched, why I didn't look away, why I didn't just _leave._  I think I wanted the pain, the finality of seeing with my own eyes that she was no longer mine, would never _be_ mine.  And so I leaned back against the wall at the far end of the room, adjacent to the foot of the bed.  Thor's bed.   _Their_ bed.  And I watched, though nothing felt perverse about any of it.  The only part of my body that responded was the small part of my heart that still functioned, remaining on duty to keep me alive.  It wept and bled and poured salt into the wound where the rest of it had withered and died.  But I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat with every gasp, every moan, every small cry from her throat and every heavy groan from his.  Still I watched.

And then the worst betrayal, worse even than the act of marrying my brother, came to pass.  I had taken at least some satisfaction in the sounds that came from her - I knew enough of her little noises to know what pleasure sounded like when it seeped from her body.  Thus far I had heard none of it...Thor seemed incapable of conjuring those sweet little sounds from her, the sounds that had bathed my ears so many times.  I felt a perverse swell of pride in thinking he would never hear the sounds that I had heard.  They would be mine and mine alone.

Until they weren't. 

_No,_ I pleaded silently with her, with her body, with whatever part of her brain had separated her far enough from the reality of her situation to allow her to find pleasure in this travesty. _No, please please no..._

But it wasn't enough.  My heartbroken whisperings couldn't stop it, and as I watched her arch up under him, her soft breasts slick with a sheen of sweat rubbed onto them from Thor's chest, as I closed my eyes to shield myself from the slightly open lips, the tightly clenched eyes, the gently pained visage of ultimate pleasure on the face of my love, I realized I could stop looking, but nothing could stop me from feeling it.  My heart pounded in my chest even as it clutched up in despair, sending the pulsing throbbing thud of my own heartbeat into my ears.  It was deafening, and for all its horrific nightmarish noise, I could still hear Thor's grunts and groans beneath it.  The cacophony of my brother's delight in his bride, blended with the _thud thud thud_ of the bed slapping the wall in rhythm with his sacrilegious thrusts.

Through all that, I heard a word.  A single word, spoken so softly that the mere blinking of my eyes was almost loud enough to drown it out.

Loki.

_Loki._

My name spilled from her lips, a pleading, a desperate breath from a dying soul, a dream played out against the back of closed eyelids.  She spoke my name, just once.  I held my breath, waiting, waiting for my brother's ears to decipher what they'd heard, just as surely as my own had heard it.

I waited so long that my lungs began to burn with want for air.  And so I breathed again, not daring to believe the tiny sound hadn't reached him.

Sick to my stomach, I leaned against the wall, wanting to pound my head into it.  Was I so deranged with thwarted desire that I'd imagined it?  Had the word been merely a wraith of my fevered heart, a manifestation of my ardor?  Or had she truly spoken it?  Spoken it while lying under my brother, their bodies joined, their lungs breathing the same air.  Spoken it while I stood, unseen, mere feet away from them.  Watching them consummate their marriage.  Watching my brother fuck the woman that was meant for me.

The woman who loved _me._

_Mine._

 

I could have left at any time.  Could have closed my eyes and envisioned my own chambers, teleporting myself there in the space of a heartbeat, away from this torturous torment.  But I stayed, watching silently from my spot at the wall, watching Thor as he finally rolled over onto his back with a groaning laugh, pulling her with him roughly.  The way he manhandled her angered me.  Her tiny body moved so easily in his hands, falling however he wanted her to lay, no resistance to his brutish touch.  I watched the look on her face as he pulled her onto him, as he pushed her up so that she was sitting astride him.  It was a look of discomfort, dismay, a fragile soul stripped of dignity.  I would have been gentle with her.  But there was no gentleness in Thor's touch, only a rough, manly sort of halfhearted tenderness, like a child petting a cat for the first time.  Stroking too hard, rubbing too rough, unaware of the trauma they're causing the cat, reveling in the joy of doing the touching.  Blind to the quiet panic of the little beast, the quick darting about of its eyes in search of a way to escape.

When he lifted her by her hips and shifted his fat, stiff cock up under her, I willed myself to look away.   _Willed_ myself.  But myself refused to obey, and when he pulled her down onto him, impaling her so deeply that her head dropped back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream, something reminiscent of a whimper escaped my throat.  It was a sound of pain, a sympathy of sorts for the unspoken agony her face revealed, but more so than anything else it was a cry from my own icy heart.  From the part that wasn't completely frozen yet, the part that still had enough warmth to hurt for her, for her breaking spirit, for her bruising body.

In that moment, her head turned.

Not far;  not enough for Thor to notice her attention drawn away from him.  Just enough for me to realize she had heard me.

And in that moment, she knew I was there.

 

It all changed, then.

Her soft voice, telling Thor it hurt, that she needed to change position to be more comfortable.  If he was nothing else, he was considerate of her requests, and allowed her to turn facing away from him so that her beautiful little bottom was toward him, her angelic face now toward the foot of the bed.

Toward _me._

She braced her little hands on his thick thighs and rode him, her eyes searching for me, meeting my own once or twice but not knowing that they had.  To help her find me I tapped the wall, just enough to bring her attention to where I stood.

And I watched, now without the guilt and sickened gut that I had felt before.  I watched as my beloved fucked my brother, but her eyes...her eyes fucked _me._

 

Thor fell asleep almost at once, giving his little bride a slap on the ass as she dismounted him, nearly knocking her off the bed;  my anger blazed at the disrespectful indignity, the rough way he handled her, the crass familiarity of his rudeness.  But how he treated his wife in the privacy of their bedchambers was none of my concern.

At least I pretended it wasn't.

As my love curled up on the chest of a man that wasn't me and drifted off to sleep in the arms of a husband she could not call by my name, I slipped quietly from their bedroom and into my own, where sleep came easily to me, far more easily than I would have expected.

I knew I would return, to a bedchamber that wasn't mine, to see a woman that likewise wasn't mine.  But one thing _was_ mine.

The name that ghosted from her lips when she came.

_That_ was mine.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
